Agreeable Differences
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: The Watsons believe; Sherlock doesn't. In the end, it changes nothing because friendship, Sherlock has realised, means acceptance. [Easter fic, fluff.]


**Agreeable Differences**

The sun-warmed leather under Sherlock's calves lulled him back into the sense of serenity that came immediately before or following sleep. He closed his eyes and reopened them slowly, blinking tiredly into the slant of the sunshine into his sitting room. He yawned slightly and wiggled his toes into the crevice of the sofa cushions, his eyes fluttering closed again.

He hadn't ruled out doing anything today, but it was only late morning. He thought that he might sleep for awhile longer just for the pure fact that he was wonderfully comfortable here, dressing gown draping off his form, fingers trailing idle patterns over the catch of the pillow that had fallen onto the floor. He yawned again.

There were keys in the lock of the exterior door.

Sherlock's eyes flew open from the intrusion of his solace, fingers stilling on the cushion. The door opened, closed, footsteps. John. He thought back, trying to remember if John had mentioned that he was coming over today, but...

"Hey- oh."

Sherlock peeled his eyes open again, tilting his head slightly towards the door. "Morning," he greeted lethargically.

"Oh, you are awake, I wasn't sure." John crossed the room. "Are you coming over for lunch today? Mary wanted to know, and I had to stop by Tesco so I figured I'd swing by and ask."

Sherlock paused. Clearly there had been something that he was meant to be doing today. He didn't remember anything of importance, though.

John sighed. "You forgot, didn't you?"

"Deleted it," Sherlock agreed, stretching his legs. "What's so important about today?"

"Easter, Sherlock."

"Oh, yes." Sherlock propped his feet on the armrest and crossed his ankles. "That's the... the religious one, isn't it?" he asked absently, waving his hand.

"Yeah, I'd think a few people would say that about it," John said, rifling through a few pages of old casework that Sherlock still had strewn on the coffee table. "Anyway, are you coming over or not? Mary's making the casserole you like so much." He thumped the papers back down, looking down at him.

"Well, this is terribly awkward," Sherlock said, sitting up slightly. The armrest dug into the small of his back. "John, I have to tell you something, I hope it doesn't change the status of our friendship but..." He tilted his head slightly, looking up at John innocently. "I'm an athiest," he said, mock-seriously.

John's snort of laughter brought the effortless smile back to Sherlock's lips, instantly breaking his facade. "I know that, you clot," John replied. "You outed yourself at my wedding, no less." Sherlock smiled at the memory. "But that doesn't change the question, are you coming or not?" John continued.

Sherlock raised his eyebrows. "Oh, so it still stands."

"I know you, you know us, it's not a big deal. I'm content in my faith, and you're my best friend. Mary and I always want you at the holidays, not like you and Mycroft have big plans, anyway."

Sherlock rolled his eyebrows. "Wanting me to celebrate a holiday about God kind of defeats the purpose when I don't believe to begin in Him with."

"Doesn't mean He doesn't believe in you," John replied smartly.

"Always your argument," Sherlock replied absently, swinging himself to his feet. "And I'm still not so sure about it, but do keep arguing if you'd like to."

"Look, are you coming or not?"

John's voice was edging on impatience; it wasn't the topic of conversation but the timing. Holidays meant big meals if not big plans. If John had gone to Tesco, Mary had sent him on a run, and whatever she wanted was time sensitive, most like to be used in the holiday meal today. Going by the shopping bag John had dropped by the door, it was cream cheese, which meant, in addition to the casserole, Mary was also making her raspberry cheesecake.

Sherlock turned his back to John in the process of seconds that it took him to deduce the reason behind John's tone, even though the deduction hadn't been entirely necessary. John was right; they knew each other, and religion was a gray area in the realms of their relationship. John was fiercely loyal, and Sherlock appreciated his reasons for being so, but he was also content to let Sherlock think what he wanted. It made it easier than family dinners, in that regard. Besides, Sherlock didn't care enough to argue about it, to be honest.

"... If you want me," he said, without looking back. "Then, of course."

"Of course we want you."

Sherlock twitched at his dressing gown, padding into the kitchen. He still wasn't quite sure what to say when John got overly sentimental. He ended up saying what he said best: nothing.

"Dinner'll be in about an hour, but you're welcome to come over now if you want."

Sherlock glanced over his shoulder. "In my pyjamas?"

John grinned and shrugged. "We've got enough pictures of you passed out on the sofa in your pyjamas enough to fill a small album, so it _really_ wouldn't matter..."

"Tempting, but I'll need a shower." Sherlock ruffled his hair. "Go ahead without me. Wouldn't want to forsake Mary the pleasure of making that cheesecake."

John looked surprised for all of two seconds before laughing. "Wouldn't want to forsake you the chance to eat it, you mean. Alright. See you in an hour, then?"

Sherlock nodded his assent. "I'll be there."

* * *

When he let himself into the Watson house forty-five minutes later, he was greeted by a flour speckled Mary with a smile on her face.

"Sherlock, just in time. He's having a row with the meat thermometer, but I think the ham's finished."

"Smells like it," Sherlock commented absently, closing the door behind him. "And your casserole will be as delightful as ever, along with the cheesecake."

Mary smiled; she didn't look surprised at all. "Uh huh, and I'm sure you'll tell me if it isn't."

"Oh, definitely."

She laughed, leading the way into the kitchen. "I found him in the entrance, John. He doesn't seem to know how to knock."

"I was invited," Sherlock retorted. "And you gave me a key ages ago, I still do know how to use basic keys, you know." He glanced up as John closed the stove and stood up. "... Happy Easter, then," he added, glancing between the Watsons.

"And Happy April 5th to you, too," Mary replied effortlessly, gripping his arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to get the eggs out of the fridge."

Sherlock hummed. "I'll set the table," he said, draping his coat over the back of the chair. "Let me know if you need anything." He pushed his sleeves up to his elbows and wound around John and Mary to get to the dishes.

* * *

**Pointless Easter drabble fluff, partially based off of real life experiences from the past. It isn't whether or not you agree on everything, the mark of friendship is how you handle those difference, yeah? Something like that? x'D As always, no offense or disrespect intended; I'm writing the characters as I think they are portrayed. ^^**

**Hoping you all had a Happy Easter, or a good April 5th! :p**

**I do not own _Sherlock_. Thanks for reading!**


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